The Closeness of Insanity
by TheTime-Traveling Detective
Summary: An AU in which Sherlock Holmes is a patient in a psychiatric ward and John Watson is his doctor. (Written from John's perspective.)


I would like to say that the time I spent with Sherlock Holmes went by too fast, but God knows there where days with that man that I couldnt have been so selfish with my time. I wish I could have done more with him. Seen more. I wish I would have been more tolerant with him at times, because I know it was just his way of testing me. I wish I would have cared more for him, looked after him better. I wish I would have been more to him than I was.

But I wasnt you very far. Most certainly not here. Definitely not now. Miracles dont happen because the universe could never be so lazy.

We could have done so much together, because -even if no one else knew- I knew he was getting better. I knew his condition was improving. And frankly, it kills me inside to know this because nowI don** The man yelled at the nurse. **

**s what you said, Mr. Holmes, but wet have any other choice. Dr. Watson is a nice man-.**I. Don** I heard the man snap back, cutting off her tired insistence. **

**I walked faster towards the doorway so the poor nurse didnt even take a glance my way. When I was inside, the nurse took a step towards me, a frown on her thin lips. She handed me a clipboard and left without meeting anyonet looking at me. re William Holmes?t see his face, I knew he had rolled his eyes at me. He turned his head to look at me, eyes squinted,s not the name I go by. Thatt. . . **I don** I said, shifting my weight. **

**He retorted. **

**I replied crossing out and writing in the margin with a nod, **

**He added quickly. He talked like verbalizing with you should make you feel honored, and I**What made you think I was going to ask that? If you like to be called Sherlock, I I replied instinctively.

There was a pause, in which he watched me for the whole time, then he answered with,Don

**Later, after I had checked in with Sherlock and some other, more routine, patients in the psychiatric ward, I was privileged with some time to grab some lunch in the cafeteria. **

**With my plastic tray in. hand, I found a table that had only one person sitting alone. It, of course, happened to be Sherlock. I was hesitant to sit down, for the reason that my mere presence may annoy him too much to bare. Maybe I shouldn**Oh, just sit down for God** He uttered without turning. **

**t you think that **

**He snapped. **

**A doctor and his patient having lunch together **

**Sherlock took in a breath of air,s book club or if she remains ignorant of this fact. His mind is somewhere else and he , of all people, has no place to determine what is considered appropriate or not.**That was

**He made a shifty eye contact with me. s now what people usually say.**What do they usually say?Are you not going to eat anything?No. Eating slows me downt you think?Wether or not itt matter. An army pension doesn** I admitted. **

**He inquired. **

**I confirmed. **

**He nodded without another word. **

**I started, Half of me was joking, the other half hoped that he would take my suggestion seriously. **

**Sherlock continued to stair at me. He sighed as he stood. He strode over to the area where the food was served and came back with a scarlet apple in hand. **

**He asked. There wasn**Yes,** I am. Then again, he wouldnt have had been Sherlock Holmes in the least. Certainty not the Sherlock Holmes I knew. **

**Maybe just a few months or a bit later, I was sitting with Sherlock again at lunch, like I had every free lunch time since the first day, when I felt the need to bring up a question that had been dancing around my mind for some time. The question had, in fact, been on the tip of my tongue for so long that my mind had tried to come up with a number of possible answers ranging from absurd to exceedingly grim. **

**I asked, out of the blue. **

**He shot back. **

Havenm here. Yes. Of course It asking about the chart. If I wanted you to tell me what symptoms you have, I would have asked a nurse. I didn

**There was a short pause, then he took sharp breath in, taking a glance away from me. I waited for him to explain, to lay it all out. But no words followed. He didnt want to talk about it. He didnt even bothered to cross my mind. Who knew silence could be so deafening? **

**Sherlock didn**My body is merely transport,d dispute flatly, **He hated the medication because it slowed him down, mellowed him out. It ironed out all of the wrinkles in his mind -where the disease manifested its minimum and the hallways where dark with the shadows that stretched across the tile flooring in a way that you would never presume would happen so eerily if you where to appear in the same exact hallways in the day time. I assumed everyone was asleep, including the security guard I passed on the way in. **

**I had, mindlessly, forgotten my mobile in the room that stood at the far side of the ward, only realizing so when I had made it half way home already. So, I had trekked all the way back to work in what had already been a long day and was agitated when I turned the handle of the door leading to the room I needed to gain entry only to find it was locked. An exasperated sigh escaped me as I doggedly let go of the metal handle of the door. **

**Upon deciding that returning home would be the only thing I could do about my temporally lost means of communication and connection to my online medical blog, I was greatly startled when someone spoke up behind me from the darkness. **

**re here exceptionally late, doctor. Forgot your mobile. Again?**Jesus!**Oh, Sherlocks only you **

**s divorce he doesn single While Sherlock spoke relatively monotonously he mentioned the keys wile a devious smirk played on his lips and held the mentioned keys in the space between us. He hushed, slipping **There are patients stole his keys in order to break out of your room?! Sherlock! When they find world of the clinically insane is a world lived in anarchy, Watson. No punishments will be imposed against me if someone happiness to find out.I would like to show you something, Doctor Watson. s condition, but I was confused because I did not know what there was to show.

Sherlock reached under his the bed -the bed that he would sleep in if he wasns center. From where I stood, exactly where I did when we first met in this very room, I saw him set this unexceptional-looking container atop the thin ivory sheets that graphed the length of his bed.

He then knelt in front of the case and opened it in front of me, spreading the contents out before him. (Something about his air of doing it vaguely reminded me of a classy businessman meticulously unpacking a portmanteau, even if most of the items from the box where not clothes at all.) I stepped closer to view his belongings. Inside there where a multitude of objects. Most of them where namely papers, but there was also: a magnifying glass, a enclosed petrie dish containing a single preserved bumblebee inside, two pictures, and a dark navy cloth that was nestled underneath all of these things.

**I asked Sherlock. In response, he modestly nodded as he let his eyes diverge from his well organized paraphernalia and momentarily settle on me. **

**He said with another nod. **

**I challenged a bit harsher than I had meant. **

**said he with a tilt to his head, **

**Sherlock unfolded each paper individually and set it out, looking for something in particular and when he finally found whatever it was he had been searching for, he stood, glancing over at me and held it out for me to see. **

**I asked, taking hold of the parchment. **

**He didn**I don I said shaking my head, pushing the paper back at him.

s a letter from my brother, Mycroft. Although, I assume you have enough intelligence to figure that much out?m a doctor for ChristWell, John, then you undoubtedly noticed this is the letter that he had personally delivered to me. A letter plainly stating that I am of the mindset of someone pertaining to schizophrenia, antisocial personality disorder and psychopathy.A useless note that informed me of the fact that he believes me to be not only a danger to myself in my lack of self control, but to others and also that my inability to manifest motivation, organize and plan for the future is irresponsible in the least. And, not to mention, that he thinks that conversations with me are difficult to carry out because of my delusions and that my attitude does nothing to improve my condition but contrariwise depress it.I did pick up on that, yes. But I still don

**t you see what He roared, clenching his fists in an impetuous manner. **

**I thought he might strike something.(Maybe even me.) So I blinked, recoiling a half step backwards and the movement seemed to have caused an upheaval to his normally callous expression, casting a chagrin sort of disconsolate paleness over his features. I immediately regretted the movement, despite how minute it may have seemed. But Sherlock had noticed it, and God knows Sherlock Holmes didns what I**There is nothing wrong with me.t as stable as he made himself out to be. Sherlock. Sherlock, please listen to me. Not as your doctor, but as your friend

**He turned to me suddenly, as if repulsed by the idea. He stood over me and with all of his hight and intimidation and anger he spat forth, T. HAVE. FRIENDS.**No,Wonder why?s health. Of course I was still vexed with the man, but I planed to keep the visit one-hundred percent business: It just another patient.

When I first got into the room I wasnI. Not like I expected Sherlock to apologize -I never expected him to ever do such a considerate thing- but I had thought (-more hoped-) that it would have been a nice change of mood. I had been too hopeful.

Sherlock laid out on his bed, eyes closed, fingertips pressed together and hands resting just below his chin. This was a position that I found him in a lot of the time. (He once referred to it as being in his and when he had finally explained to me what he meant by that, I hadns bright eyes opened and he sat up with a quickness that I was sure would have given any other human being a head rush. He swung his legs around to one side and was now sitting at the end of the mattress, back pin straight, palms of his hands resting upon his knees. His posture was familiar and ostensive as though nothing had changed, but his eyes that looked down at the ground alluding that everything had. I , Sherlock?Did you honestly not comprehend where I was going with showing you the letter from Mycroft?Sherlock if you

**He ordered. **

**t get where you where going with any of it. **Really?!t expect though, was the possibility that Sherlock would decide to follow after.

Sherlock sprung from his sitting position and let his voice ring down the hall as he closed the space between both of us. **He called. He rested his hand on my shoulder, and pulled me around so I was facing him. **

**t have friends; I **

**I blinked, looking at his face for a moment, looking for any of it indicating that he could be telling the truth but then he continued talking. **

**t matter- I mean, it does matter, I guess it does to you, just not right now.t take any time to verbally acknowledge it for his tone quickly lowered in seriousness,s the soul reason for why I told you about the letter the other night. Think about it, if I were to conceal information from you, keep a secret, why would I have the sudden inclination to share that information with you unless it became relevant?**Go on.I received

**When he was ready to answer, a nurse that I had come to know as Nurse Hooper approached us. She stood shyly off to the side and spoke in a soft voice as she always did. The things she said to Sherlock always seemed a bit unsure, as if they where a suggestion, not a requirement,m sorry if ire scheduled to go to the craft center now. ** also wanted me to remind you that spray painting the walls, creating a skull of clay or any other contumacious behavior is- well, - I guess you already know what it is. Contumacious.s eyes nearly rolled out of his head. t be so Brothers psychiatric branch has changed itt auspicious. Although I am sorry for the abrupt change and vague manner of this note, I will not except any argument against your extraction from your current location nor will I change my position on the subject. I will send for you on this coming Friday, the 2nd of May. As for your caretakers, I will send a letter to Psychiatric Director at St. Bartholomews unavoidable withdraw. SherlockDoctor Sholto, I think that the only thing that removing Sherlock Holmes from this facility will do is worsen his condition. It will likely agitate this paranoia and lack of trust, putting him in uncomfortable social positions and isolate him even more then he already is, sir. I wouldn

**He said. **

**I asked. **

**Sholto returned. I stopped in my tracks, offended on Sherlockregular patientt an ordinary patient, not to me at leastt more then five feet apart from each other. His voice was quieter now as he spoke, t making good decisions for the benefit of the patientt be able to .Yessir. I understand.s choice and part with my friend in the same day. **

**The 2nd of May approached like an oncoming storm. Faster then predicted and prematurely dreaded. **

**Almost immediately after I arrived at the ward that morning, I went to see Sherlock in his room. I pushed the metal door open with more force then need be and I realized how anxious I must have seemed when the door slammed up against the wall. I did not care for my dismay swiftly took all of my feeling and made my stomach drop once again. **

**Sherlock was not in his room, nor where any of his belongings. I couldnt have. Even if I had the knowledge to figure out that it wouldnt have convinced myself that this was the truth. **

**Fortunately, I didn**Doctor Watson, sent me to find you. HeThank what?For** He replied. **

**I already knew the answer to the question before I asked, but I desperately waned to hear him say it, **

**re really going to make me say it?**It** I snorted. **

**He laughed, a short and humorless breath of air, You showed me kindness, even when I deserved none.**Thank is of the essence, Little Brother.**As long as you are done satisfying your sentimentalities, we should be on our way.s obvious that St. Barts it to matter in perspective, John? I suppose nothing. **

**Everyone here is an idiot, **

**Sherlock Homes **

**Sherlockst feel, he made me feel a lot. Another thing I thought was funny-or more peculiar- was the pattern that Sherlock had in option for the letters he always arrived on the days I used to evaluate his heath; Monday, Wednesday, or a Friday. But never did I receive more then one letter a week. For the most part, they where regularly sent for the first four months after he left. These letters where just about things that Sherlock would usually talk about such as bees, the deductions he made about people that stayed, worked, and visited, or how brainless everyone was. But as time went on, they became more sporadically received and vague. Soon enough, I hardly received one letter a month and involuntarily, I started to miss his spidery handwriting and audacious vocabularys to Bethlem Royal Hospital in order to visit the friend I still hoped to have. **

**When I approached the front desk, the woman sitting there didns. The woman siting at the desk looked up at me and grabbed for the grey phone that sat at her desk and said something inaudible to the person on the other side of the line. Demanded the woman who was sitting at the desk. So I did. **

**Under a minuet later, a woman came into the room and without hardly glancing up from her mobile that she clapped in her hands she asked me, **

**I inquired, t even know I was coming until last week. How could have he possibly expected me to visit Sherlock?**Thatd break.t think of a response to what she just said, and I could tell she knew exactly that. s just in int break the hush that fell between us.

The gentleman at the foot of the bed followed SherlockYou

**I took in a breath. I said, letting my gaze linger on Sherlock for a second longer,s is Moron.t before: His face and hands had a few noticeable scars, I could only imagine what from; He was strongly built. Like a solider, I had thought to my self; And it was strange how out of place he seemed to me in this hospital. **

**Sebastian added, letting go of my hand and checking his watch, With that, Dr. Sebastian left the two of us alone. **

I

**I scoffed. **

**s what I said,**There is someone in this facility of whom I originally though to just be another patient. Well hes actually interesting. Past case of criminal history and the only reason hes been diagnosed with psychopathic tendencies, schizophrenia,and bipolar is that interesting?There are lots of criminally insane people in facilities such as these all around. Hm? Oh! Because he** He smiled, **

**s a criminal?Donre idiots if they get caught.**Sherlock, he did get 

**t understand.**Ive talked. And heI remarked.

**Sherlock shot back, starting to pace again. sss **

**I chimed in and he stopped pacing again. Looking directly in my eyes, he nodded once. Yes. **

**After that visit, I never really stopped thinking about all Sherlock had said, or Dr. Moron, or the fact that Mycroft had expected me to visit. More then anything, the visit was unnerving. Just the opposite of what I had gone there for. I had thought that if I saw Sherlock happily getting better, maybe It believe a word of it my self. Sherlockt making rounds that day and so I was leisurely hanging around in my overly modest flat, reading the prequel to the Tolkien novels and drinking tea. I remember the weather being splendidly warm for London, although rain still teemed down over the city from shadowy whips of clouds. **

**When I heard a knock at the door, I jumped, startled by the sudden noise that cut through my imagination like an arrow. I hadnt recognize him. **

Asked Sherlock, standing in the rain.

Sherlock ran his fingers through his soaking hair, slicking it back in a way that I** that Sherlock was capable of and all that I expected to receive from him.). **

**t break out of . I was discharged from the Royal Hospital a few weeks ago. They tell me that Is- and then I get transferred to Bethlem for four months and He shook his head in disbelief and took a sip from the tea, quickly looking down at the cup in repugnance as he swallowed. He exclaimed, **

**I asked, ignoring his comment about my tea. **

**He stood from the chair he had been sitting in and went over to the sink in the cramped kitchen, pouring the liquid down the drain.s possible, but at the moment it doesnt care**Yes, yes. I get it. Itt interrogating your brother for why you where release?t expect to see Sherlock doing.)

I returned.

Sherlock sighed. t know. Why would I know..? I mean, got a flat and a ?The job is in the mailroom at Scotland Yard. I sort the the flat?It. Would you care to see it?I suppose there isn

The flat was messier then I pictured. The table that sat between two floor to ceiling windows in the living room was covered in stray papers. So much so, that the face of the table wasns laptop laid out atop of the multitude of overflowing stacks of parchment. The mantle place had an array of odd objects sitting on it. A bat in a glass case, a small brown figure of some sort, a skull and a Cludeo board knifed into the wood by the mirror. (Of all things, it left me wondering who heDon** he said to me, Oh yes, I though, that certainly was reassuring. Thanks Sherlock.) The last few things I noticed where a spray paired smily face and bullet holes denting the wall**Oh that?**I was bored. The landlady is adding it to my rent.**Where did you keep all of your things while you were** I wondered aloud. **

**Sherlock said with a small nod. **

**I asked. **

**I nodded, as though I understood what he meant and looked at the violin. t know you played.**I know. They only let me play on your off days

I smiled, thinking about the brilliant notes that could come from the instrument with his fingers running arose the strigs.

**Sherlock replied with a smirk. **

**In the first three months after Sherlockd sit in Speedys flat and talk or take a walk in Hyde Park if it wasns deductions of people from the letters they sent and who received them and I about interesting happenings at the ward- or other stray subjects that happened to come up during our conversations. **

**I visited so often that Mrs. Hudson, Sherlockt gay. Another time that Sherlock and I were misunderstood for a couple happened to be a time Sherlock and I went out for Italian food. The man whowould make it more romantic**Oh-I** I tried to tell him that we werent understand.I thought that I visited Sherlock because we where not in a romantic relationship. The relationship that we conceived didns presence was more uncertain and haphazard. Now, if I tried to ask him about certain subjects like his brother or his health, he became irrationally vicious in his words and intentions, whereas before, these where things that were part of our casual conversations. I had a terrible foreboding awareness that he was falling back into his old habits of madness. And there was no way for me to catch him. **

**March was lacking in the closeness of Sherlock in almost every way possible. I felt like I had not only been cast aside, but also a sense of unaccustomed self disappointment that I had not done enough to keep his fragile sanity afloat. I also was disappointed in the predisposition that he would unconditionally desire my presence as much as I needed his. I had illogically convinced myself of the untruthful meaning of sentiment that Sherlock was capable. I had overestimated his position and, by consequence, let myself down, stupidly confusing my expectations and his reality. Hes room. I was almost outside the closed door when I head the noise: Two cracks that split the air and snatched the breath from my lungs. I grabed at the handle of the door, trying to push it down frantically, but it was locked from the inside. Breaking it down, thatt even hear as I, too, tried to stop the blood from rushing from his body. It**John** He sputtered, his bloodied hands moving from his wound and with debilitating strength tugging at the front of my oatmeal jumper but I was still pressing the wound. His blood was everywhere and it seemed as though nothing could stop it from flowing from him. His weak grasp made it overwhelmingly clear to me that he knew it was over. My words could not heal him. **

**His voice was almost impossible to hear, **I know.**I know. I know. I know. I know. I know I spoke to him until my voice no longer formed words and my surroundings seemed distant, like a space shuttles journey could touch the edges of space. Thatt have been so selfish with my time and care for him as a doctor and a friend.I said that I wished I could have done more with him -seen more because his potential was limitless. I confessed that I wish I would have been more tolerant with him at times, because I knew it was just his way of testing me. I told them that I wished I would have cared more for him and looked after him better. **

**I didnt. **

**I didnt you very far, (most certainly not here and definitely not now,) or miracles dont happen because the universe could never be so lazy. **

**I omitted the fact that we could have done so much together, because -even if no one else knew- I knew he was getting better. I knew his condition was improving. I left out how it killed me inside every day to know this because now no one else will see his brilliance. Not like I did. Not ever.**


End file.
